Breaking Bonds
by Mkatsi
Summary: Angel finds out about Spike's chip and comes to confront him, Xander doesnt like this.


Breaking Bonds.

Author: Mkatsi

Rating: PG

Pairings: Spike/Xander fluffnangst

Feedback: Yes Please

Disclaimer: The boy's aint mine.

Distribution: Please ask and let me know where it's going.

Summary: Angel finds out about the chip and comes to confront Spike, Xander isn't so happy about it.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

The tone was accusatory, hurt, rejected. One of those parental 'I'm not angry, just disappointed' tones, and in a way, it was just that.

It had been months since the chip, Spike had lost more weight than he cared to remember, and more dignity than that. Being chained up in the watchers house, then the whelp's bedroom had been less than fun than a day at the zoo with fluffy animals and full sunlight. He had come to them for help. He had debased himself. He hadn't asked those he should and now he would pay.

"m'sorry…."

He let out in a mumble,

"Sorry for not telling me, or sorry that I found out?"

Came the reply, wood smoke eyes burning into the back of his head, tone biting from someone that obviously knew him too well.

"both" Spike replied, bringing a hand up to brush backwards through his hair, smoothing down gelled locks as he turned around to face his maker.

Angel levelled him with a stare, one of those holier-than-thou gazes that made Spike feel smaller than he already was, and so angry that he wanted to drive those too-familiar eyes out with something sharp and nasty. Wasn't sure he could, for more than one reason.

For a moment or two, he stared back, ice breaking coffee, steam and heat the only conceivable reaction. He snapped first. He always did.

"You think I like this?" he raised his hands in an outwards gesture towards his head

"You think I want people to know?-"

"_they _all know"

A cool cut, slicing through arguments, blowing the steam from Spike like a breeze carried on one gentle hand gesture towards the outside world. He fell silent. Yes. The Scoobies all knew, all hated and teased and even pitied him for it. The latter being the cruellest cut of all. _They _pitied _him. _

He knew what Angel was getting at too, he had gone to them instead of to Angel, he had chosen natural enemies over blood-kin, over family.

"I couldn't go to you like that. Didn't want you to see me weak"

He managed to get out, no longer able to meet Angel's gaze.

There was a part of him that wanted to argue that if this family thing meant anything- and no matter how they seemed, it did matter, when it mattered the most. If they were in trouble there was always help and hope. If that meant things, if that was true, shouldn't Angel have known? He shook his head a little.

"I would have come if you'd asked"

"I know."

The embrace is a little unexpected, but not unwelcome, cold, strong arms circling him, and after a moment-

"you've lost weight"

"I know."

They don't say anything else, words aren't really needed. He'd lost weight because he was feeding on one or two blood bags a day instead of eight fresh pints, but then, Angel had been doing that one for a while now.

There would probably be a lecture later, words about how Spike was still just a caged animal, warnings to Buffy and the others that he was just the same inside, that he would kill them all given the chance. Spike snorted soft laughter at the thought. Angel didn't question him on it. It was the sound of a rucksack hitting laminate flooring that woke them from their personal reverie. To Angel it was the sound of secrecy, time to step away and pretend nothing ever happened, only the memory of comfort. To Spike that soft thud was something more, something he had come to know. Xander was home.

Xander's small basement had become almost permanent home to Spike, so much so that in his rampage to find the blonde, in asking his whereabouts, Willow was able to tell Angel with confidence that he would be at Xander's, and so he was. That sound always came at around 5pm, it wasn't always's so alarming, today the soft slump and thud of the boy's belongings onto the floor was somehow more poignant, snapping the atmosphere and snapping Spike's head upwards.

Xander stood there, opposite them both, hands lax, mouth slightly agape.

Angel stood, not two feet from Spike, assuming that Xander was confused as to why Angel might ever embrace Spike.

Spike stood there, knowing the truth of it.

Xander was jealous, was hurt, was angry.

The boy was already walking away, turning on heel to quickly climb back up the steps to the outside world through which he had come just moments before. Spike was starting after him as Angel's arm shot out to hold the smaller vampire in place, his fingers curled around an almost delicate arm with some force, turning Spike to look at him as he spoke, searching for something in those oceanic eyes and in the air.

"you love him"

The tone was more accusatory than it had been on their meeting today.

Spike made no attempt to deny the charge, nor was he given a chance "Gods Spike, I thought you smelled like the guy because you're living here…but you…" Angel shook his head, it might have been disgust. Spike wasn't sure, didn't know, didn't care, didn't think before his fist connected with Angel's face, knuckles breaching personal space and connecting uncleanly with lip and chin, the scent of fresh blood in the air not even enough to stay Spike as he turned to run up the steps by which Xander had exited. He threw open the hatch door and tore across the front lawn, the scent of Xander on the air enough to lead him in the direction of his savoir.

"Xan?"

He threw out, almost panicked into the night air

"Xander?"

The sound of his doc Martins hitting the pavement was like a pounding heartbeat in his ears, and in that, his heart stopped at the end of the road, as he skidded to a halt, catching sight of dark hair, sad frame, sitting on the wall to one of Sunnydale's fine cemeteries. He didn't dare move closer.

"Xan…" he started softly, his eyes reflecting the pain in the boy before him

"Xan, I wasn't…we weren't…?"

Xander stood, turned to face Spike, levelled his eyes, dark bitter sweet chocolate colliding with a summers day, something inside the vampire melted a little further.

"I don't care Spike. I'm not gonna keep you from Angel, he's your sire, or whatever. I know there's bonds there I cant ever hope to give you, but you'd damned well better be straight with me about it."

Xander was always the strong one. Spike was about to prove it. His eyes fell a little more. _He doesn't care_, _he wont fight for you. _

"say something" Xander ground out through gritted teeth, his anger palpable on the air.

Spike forced himself to look up, to speak.

"He was worried. He heard what happened" his finger jabbed at the side of his head, indicating the chip as his voice trembling with his own anger, and just a little fear "He wanted to help." he went on, "I hit him." Spike breathed heavily, unnecessarily. "He didn't seem to like the idea I was in love with you, so I hit him" he finished, clipping his words off towards the end, looking back to the floor, staring holes into the pavement.

He didn't see it coming, not by a mile.

Xander's lips were on his before he even realised that the other had moved, warm petals crushing against his own pale skin, tongue invading his mouth for a second before Xander pulled back grinning, his fingers pressing into Spike's shoulders where he had kept the vampire upright. Spike's brows lowered a little, knitted themselves into a line of confusion and surprise, he shook his head in question. "You said you loved me" Xander told him, still grinning like a fool. "yeah" Spike replied, accent seeming harsh in the night. "You haven't said that before" came the reply. Spike shook his head, moved to shrug himself from Xander's grasp and look up into the others eyes, his own hand taking the other's chin in a grip so as he couldn't look away. "I thought it was obvious mate." was the sly remark, his own lips twisting and breaking into a grin as they fell into a kiss once more, moonlight shining down on them as they curled their hands in one another's clothes on the corner of a Sunnydale graveyard on a crisp September night.


End file.
